


Battle and Peace

by jypzrose



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jypzrose/pseuds/jypzrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barron Battle has escaped and disappeared, leaving the hero and citizen communities at large in a state of panic. Warren Peace has ceased all communication, causing some to think he's gone rogue to hunt down his father, or worse, join him. One person gets the call to seek Warren out, one person that turned her back on heroes and sidekicks and the Agency of Supers years ago. Against her instincts, Layla Williams agrees, fully aware that more than Warren's allegiance is at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this several years ago and now I seem to be heading back to it. I've been reading Sky High fiction lately and have noticed there is still a serious lack of anything of substance in the Layla/Warren department. So, I'm going to finish this one. Might take forever, but i promise it won't be four years before the next update.

**Prologue**

 

Layla Williams could count on one hand the times in her life she'd been truly terrified.

She wasn't an easily frightened child. The dark, monsters under the bed or bogeymen in her closet didn't bother her. As a teen, she was twittery and nervous, mainly because she hadn't known how to deal with her feelings about Will, but never afraid.

The first time wasn't when Gwen tried to turn all the adult supers into babies to create a legion of super villains, like most would think. Or even when Will Stronghold had been thrown out the window to his impending doom, only to fly as if he'd been doing so for years. Something within her had known he would be all right despite her initial reaction.

No, the first time was when that same Will Stronghold dropped to one knee to ask her to marry him. By that time, Layla's freshman year in college, she'd realized that she wasn't in love with him. Not anymore. Her fear, her deepest shame, was that she had to hurt him. The thought that she might lose him forever as even a friend had struck her dumb with fear. So much so, she'd said yes, without much thought.

Their engagement lasted three weeks. And her worst fear had come true when it ended.

The second was when a tsunami had ripped through the small south Asian town she was visiting. She'd spent the week trying to help the struggling crops grow, to save the lives of the village. Then the storm had ripped through, killing at least half. All of her power of vegetation couldn't help when the winds and water were tearing the island apart.

She still had nightmares of the sounds, the screams. The aftermath.

The third and perhaps the worst, was the phone call she'd gotten from her mother, telling Layla that her father- a citizen-had had a heart attack. Her strong, robust, doctor father, who saved lives on a daily basis and was just as much a hero as any man with super powers, was laying in a hospital bed with little chance of survival.

She still could barely think about that, even though he  _had_  survived and was thriving, playing with her younger sister’s kids.

None of them, however, were quite like this oily terror sliding through her as she stepped onto the cool tile of the hacienda, surrounded by stocky Mexican men with guns. Unlike Will, bullets could hurt her and Layla was rethinking her plan with each step.

" _Por favor_. Please. She pay me. My children, I need the money. Please, no bring me to _Senor_ Battle…" Layla's companion was throwing her under the bus in heavily accented English. She wondered if he thought the begging would be better received in English, since he'd been going on in Spanish since they'd been captured.

" _Callate_!" The man in front of them hissed in a gravelly voice. Layla looked around, the wide-open space of the veranda making way to the dark double doors that surely led to her doom.

But maybe she was just being melodramatic.

"No, no, no." Her companion, Ramón, started crossing himself and muttering under his breathe in rapid fire Spanish. Layla could practically smell his regret at accepting her money to bring her here in the sweat that glistened on his dark skin. She couldn't blame him. Her heart was thundering in her chest like a freight train and a cold sweat was trailing ice down her spine. Everything she'd ever heard about Barron Battle, both lie and truth, swirled in her brain until the man she was about to face seemed as large and horrific as any Mythic beast.

"After you, _senorita_." The lead man leered at her, smiling wide to show a flash of a gold tooth. His eyes rolled over her brazenly, taking in her mud stained jeans and t-shirt, making her bare toes curl against the tile. She realized then that she'd lost her shoes somewhere and that made her feel even more vulnerable. Defiantly, she tossed her copper hair off her shoulder and leveled what she hoped was a scathing look at him. Chuckling, he turned the knob and the door swung open. Layla tramped down hard on her fear, straightened her shoulders and took her first step through the door.

The room was dim, the shutters closed against the harsh midday sun. It took just a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. There was nothing in the room. It was just a great open space with hallways leading off in different directions. The air was cool, much cooler than she had expected, and a shiver raced over her skin. Confusion pulled her brows together and she turned to look at the man behind her.

"Layla Williams."

The voice boomed around them, seeming to rattle her bones. Her eyes shot around the room, panic pushing her heart up into her throat and she took a step back. She bumped into Ramón, who jumped away from her like she'd scalded him.

She heard their captors snicker at their surprise and instinct had her reaching out with her powers. A tree branch broke through one of the shuttered windows, twining its way towards the little group. The men cursed, Ramón started praying in earnest and all of them scrambled as another branch joined the first, then another. Layla threw her arms out, controlling them like her own appendages. She knocked the guns away from the men and broke out several of the other windows. Her eyes were open but she stared blind ahead of her, her arms never wavering as a gust of wind whipped her hair around her face.

" _ENOUGH_!" That same voice lashed out, followed by a burst of heat that seared Layla's skin and broke her concentration. The branches were scorched before they hit the ground, their bark black and smoking. Layla felt hard hands grab her, felt the rough cut of rope in her skin as she came back to herself. Usually she had complete control of her powers. This time, she didn't and it left her groggy and disoriented.

"Is that necessary?" A voice asked, spilling over her like warmth on a cold night. She looked up, her eyes searching until they fell on him. Relief washed over her and she had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. Warren Peace stood in the middle of the room, facing away from the small group, speaking to someone Layla couldn't see.

"I think it is." A man emerged almost as if from out of thin air. Layla gasped as she looked at the man come to a stop in front of Warren. There was no doubt in her mind that she was staring at Barron Battle himself. Aside from heavy lines cut into his face and the white streaking through his short dark hair, he was what she imagined Warren might look like in twenty years. Beauty cut by hard time, a prince darkened by murder.

"Don't worry son. We won't hurt your little friend." Barron reached up and placed a hand on Warren's shoulder, an indulgent smile curling the older man's lip.

"I didn't say she was my friend. I just don't like to see a woman mistreated." Warren countered, keeping his gaze averted from Layla, even as Barron moved toward her. She pushed away the sting those words caused, and focused her attention on the most infamous criminal in Super Hero history.

"Yes, yes. And a beautiful woman she is, indeed. Are you sure this isn't a friend of yours? Seems I remember hearing you went to Prom or something with a friend of Stronghold's." Barron paused in front of her, raising a hand to brush a lock of russet hair out of her face. "And this lovely lady fits the description."

"That was a lifetime ago." Warren answered, his gaze barely flicking over her. She searched his face for something, anything that would clue her into what he was thinking. But as ever, Warren was a mystery.

"Nothing to say for yourself, my dear? Since you so rudely entered my complex without an invitation, one would think you would be trying to beg for your life."

 _He doesn't mince words, does he?_ Layla thought to herself. Forcing her gaze away from Warren, she looked into the eyes of the man that gave him life. The dark orbs staring back at her were cold hard disks of malice and cruelty. An involuntary shudder made her jerk and she felt sickened at the delight that came over his features at her distress.

"Not much of a talker, ay?" He sneered down at her, and Layla was sure that if he had a mustache to twirl, he would. She thought she heard Warren snort, but she refused to look back at him, her attention squarely on the viper turning to face her once more.

"What are you doing here, my dear? And I expect an answer this time."

Defiance had her raising her chin and she quirked a brow at him. Probably not a smart thing, she knew. But as she hadn't really thought of a cover story, Layla figured silence was probably best.

A cry burst from her lips to join Ramón's harsh sob of fear when Barron lit up. Unlike Warren, where only his hands and triceps burst into flame, Barron Battle turned into a walking fireball. His head to his feet were covered in flames and the only features visible were the shiny black orbs of his eyes.

"Oh God," she hissed, stepping back and running square into the chest of her captor. She felt give as he too stepped back, the image of his master in flames apparently unnerving him as well.

"I told you, Layla Williams, daughter of Siren and friend the Stronghold family. The same family that put me into that prison, I…expect…an answer." Barron advanced on her, and Layla found herself stumbling backwards as her captors and Ramón scattered out of Barron's line of sight. She fell, hard on her butt, her hands hitting the floor painfully as she tried to push away from him.

"Barron! Stop." Warren put one flaming hand on his father's shoulder and jerked him around. "Enough."

Layla stared wide-eyed at the two men, one completely in flames, the other only engulfed to the wrist. Warren stared hard at his father, the sharp planes of his face made sharper by the orange light dancing over them. He was stunning in that moment, a fire god controlling not only the element, but also his own father. Layla felt her heart trip and fall in her chest, and the prick of tears in her eyes. If she'd ever doubted her feelings for him, there was no doubting them now. As his gaze quickly met hers, the flash of concern in them just as quickly covered up, she knew she loved him.

With a chuckle, Barron powered down, shrugging off the flaming hand of his son as if it were a fly. "As I said…a friend of yours." There was something in Barron's voice. Something hard and cold that had Layla scrambling to stand. No easy feat with her hands tied behind her back.

"What if she is?" Warren finally acquiesced, positioning himself between her and his father, the broad length of his shoulders almost hiding Barron from her.

"Oh, it's of no matter to me." Barron replied, his voice deceptively mild. He turned, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked at Warren. "How do you know she hasn't brought the Enforcers with her?"

"Look at her. She's alone. No weapons, no tracking device.  No shoes."

"That we can see. I'll admit, she is refreshingly unadorned. Most women now a days where much too much make-up and jewelry. However, I can tell you, there is more than one way to hide something you don't want found. Isn't that right, my dear?"

"I've gone rogue." Layla spoke for the first time, her voice shaky and dry from not speaking for so long. She was sure Warren would say it was some kind of record.

"Really?" Barron drawled, a sneer curling his lip. "I find that fascinating. May I ask why? I'm fairly sure it's not because of me. Although, I would be deeply flattered if it were."

He was mocking her, baiting her.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ she chorused in her head.

"I.I…" she paused, breathed, then tried again. "They wanted me to bring Warren in." True enough. She did well with the truth. "I don't want too." Again, truth. Ok, good. She hadn't lied and hopefully Barron wouldn't question that too much.

The older man smiled. It was a smile that a much younger Layla would have called a Grinch-y smile. Now she just called it evil.

"You must care a great deal about my son."

"I do." She said without hesitation. She felt more than saw Warren tense as she was keeping her eyes on Barron. If anything, the man's smile got wider, broader, and scarier.

"Wonderful." Layla screamed as a fireball erupted from the fist he flung towards her. Warren jumped, his body taking the brunt and force of it, the action knocking him backwards and straight into Layla.

Bright lights exploded behind her eyes as she fell once more to the floor, smacking her head on the tiles. She thought she heard her name, the sound of it tiny and desperate as the darkness over powered the lights and dragged her underneath.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

"You know that craps going to kill you one day." Magenta Evan said as Layla dunked her organic green tea bag into her cup of hot, filtered water. Layla just laughed and continued to dunk. "No, really. I read it on Twitter."

"Please. Are you really so bored that you need to read twitter?" Magenta snorted and took a swig of her Coke, unconsciously pressing her other hand across the girth of her very pregnant belly.

"Yes." She answered simply. Layla snorted again and wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "It's not like I can work or anything, thanks to Glowboy." The dark haired woman scowled but Layla knew better.

"Just think about how soon, all of this will be over. Then you'll have that warm, sweet little bundle of joy to cuddle." She reminded her friend with a sigh. Magenta rolled her eyes again, but couldn't quite stop the smile from tugging her lips.

"You should see Zach. Every time the baby moves he's jumping all over me like some kind of crazed shiatsu hound trying to feel it."

Layla snorted at that. She took a sip of her tea and settled into the peace of being home. She was only in town for a short visit. Granted, that's all most of them were, but this one was shorter than usual. Layla was off for a well-deserved vacation hiking through Canada. No one but the woods, hills and her own thoughts. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"If you're traipsing around the mighty tundra, how am I supposed to let you know when the baby has come? And what kind of best friend are you to not be around for my due date?" Magenta said, almost as if she were reading Layla's mind.

"I  _will_  be here for your due date. I'm only going for a month. And you have another six weeks, tops."

"But what if I go into labor early? Do you realize you're leaving me at that mercy of Zach and Ethan?" Magenta shuddered in mock horror.

"You'll be fine. And I'll be back before you know it."

"You think maybe you'll stick around for a while?" Magenta leveled a stare at Layla that made her squirm more often than not. It was pointed and intense and said much more than Magenta could ever say in her acerbic way.

"Maybe."

"Come on, Lay. You can't run forever."

"I'm not!" Layla denied, but it sounded hollow even to herself.

"Will is hardly ever in town. His parents retired and moved to Boca freaking Raton and Warren…well. No one's sure where Warren is right now." Magenta snapped. Layla shrunk away from the names being thrown at her like well-aimed darts, reminding her of why she'd left the world of Supers behind.

"How are they?" she heard herself ask. She wouldn't look at Magenta as she waited for the answer, instead she glanced around the tiny apartment Mags and Zach were calling home. Her mind skipped back through time, reminding her of the last time she'd see Will. She could still see the round surprise of his eyes, the hurt that flooded his face as he stared down at the winking diamond she'd placed in his hand.

Was it possible for her heart to still ache thinking about it? Was is still fair?

"Will's fine. His parent's are in Boca, or weren't you paying attention? Warren…"

Something in Magenta's voice had Layla looking back at her. "What?" She hadn't spoken to Warren in ten years. She didn't think he'd want to associate with the woman that had broken his best friends heart.

Funny how walking away from him had hurt almost as much as leaving Will.

"Don't you read the newspaper anymore?"

"Sometimes. Mostly just to see what day it is. I lose track sometimes." Layla explained. "What's happened?" Worry coated her voice as Magenta took a deep breath, then paused.

"Jesus. Why do I have to be the one to break the news?" Magenta grumbled. With an effort she pushed off her barstool and waddled over to the dinette to pick up that days latest edition. "Here."

Layla felt her heart start to skitter when her fingers curled around the black and white paper. With some trepidation, she pulled it to her and unfolded it. It took her only a moment to find the article.

_Serial Murderer Escapes!_

"Oh my God." Barron Battle. Escaped?! "how did he get out?"

"No one knows. Or the Association of Supers isn't telling."

"How is Warren taking this?" Magenta fell silent and Layla raised puzzled eyes to her friends face. Magenta was rarely nervous and certainly didn't mind speaking her mind. So to see her hesitate about anything made Layla uneasy. "What is it?"

Almost as if on cue, the door bell rang.  _Saved by the bell_  Layla thought as Magenta beat a hasty exit to answer the door.  Or as hasty as an eight month pregnant woman can be.

"This better not be about Zach hacking into the national database again." Magenta grumbled. She practically growled after she pulled the door open to reveal two nondescript men wearing gray business suits and matching crew cuts outside. "Come on, don't you guys ever get bored knocking on my door?"

"Excuse us, Mrs. Evans. We're not here for your husband."

"What? Oh…Really?" Magenta's eyes narrowed. " _I_  didn't do anything. I'm just a pregnant civil servant." She crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at the men. She looked somewhat comical glaring up at these two men with her huge belly heaving in indignation that they dare be standing at her front door. Layla didn't feel like laughing though, as her stomach took a dive. Somehow she knew, before they'd even said they weren't there for Zach, that they were there for her.

"Mrs. Evans, please. Ms. Williams, will you come with us?"

"Layla?" What do you want with her? She hasn't had anything to do with supers in years." Magenta squawked her hands curling into fists. Layla was pretty sure her friend was about to morph into her guinea pig form and bite one of them. Not sure what that would do to the baby, Layla jumped up and reached for her battered old knapsack.

"Mags, it's ok." It really wasn't. They both knew that. But with no way of finding out what was going on other than going with the men, Layla didn't see any other recourse. "I'll call you later."

"Layla, do you want me to call your mom?"

"No."

  
"That won't be necessary." Crew Cut #1 said with a tight smile. Layla quirked a brow at him that he didn't' seem to notice. "If you don't mind," he said to her, holding a guiding hand out to lead her from the apartment. He closed the door, not Magenta, and Layla felt that act was scarily final.

"I guess asking what this is about would be futile?" She asked, giving the younger looking of the two a nervous smile. He didn't even twitch.

She sighed and followed the men out of the apartment building. There was a black car at the curb; Layla could have rolled her eyes at the cliché. Crew Cut Guy #1 opened the back passenger door, looking at her expectantly. She slid inside dutifully, pulling her bag into her lap and looking out the dark tinted window. She knew they weren't going to talk to her, so she settled in for the ride.

Layla knew who they were. The Enforcers. A new division of the Department of Hero Regulation. Super Police, so to speak.

What they wanted with her, she had no idea. But since she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she wasn't overly worried about it. There must be some kind of misunderstanding.

They drove through Maxville, the houses and buildings whizzing by. Some she remembered going to when she was younger. Others were just faded shadows of her childhood.

In no time and much sooner than Layla had expected, they pulled into the parking lot of the Maxville Court House and Municipal building. It also housed the headquarters of the Division of Heroes. Layla hadn't been here since she'd refused her assignment and walked away from Heroes and sidekicks (now called Duos) and never looked back.

Without much preamble and certainly without saying anything. Crew Cut #1 got out of the car and opened her door. She slipped out and onto the sidewalk, barely hauling her bag onto her shoulder when Crew Cut #2 flanked her other side.

_Yeah, we don't look_ too  _conspicuous,_ Layla though, sending a jittery smile to the young mother sitting on a bench with her children.  _Probably thinks I'm some sort of criminal._ How was that for ironic?

C.C. #1 pulled open the door and waited for her and C.C. #2 to go through. They led her over to the elevators, swiftly pushing through the security and the throngs of people there for the court sessions that day. They all but pushed an elderly lady out of the way to get to the last elevator in the row. Before they boarded, CC#2 stared at the handful of citizens in the car until they felt uncomfortable and filed out. Layla smiled at each one, embarrassed. Then, she was pulled onto the elevator, CC#1 pushing the door close button then pulling out a key. Instead of pushing a button, he inserted the key into the shut-down lock and turned it all the way to the right. There was no label, but Layla knew what he was doing.

That key opened up the secret lair of the Association of Supers. A mass underground office complex built under the Municipal building. She wondered how many people upstairs were Supers trying to get to work?

A few seconds later, the elevator doors opened once more to a scene not to different from the one upstairs. The only difference was the men and women milling around down here were all dressed in various costumes and masks. She saw Elastagirl leading her daughter-a pale girl with dark hair pulled back from wide eyes- from one of the back rooms, a schedule clutched tightly in the girl's hand. Layla knew that Sky High was getting its newest freshman.

She was surprised to realize that it was that time of year. She saw even more fresh faces moving around, towards the office Sky High kept in the building. She thought she caught a glimpse of Batman-the only non-super powered Super in history-but she couldn't be sure. After all, he was a bit of a recluse, and certainly an appearance by him would cause a stir, even in the Super community.

CC#1 and #2 didn't pause as they led her through the din. They walked through the main lobby, guiding her down a long hall full of doors marked with the different departments. Upstairs, the court house felt warm, almost, with all the dark wood and symbols of justice. Down here, it felt more institutionalized. More like a prison. And she knew, that there was indeed holding cells down here.

They led her through the labyrinthine halls and down a flight of stairs. Layla was starting to feel claustrophobic. Down each hall, the doors became more sparse, the light more dense. Her heart sped up as her nerves started to jump under her skin. CC#1 and #2 didn't pause, they just kept ushering her forward like a dead woman walking. And that really unnerved her.

"Could you please tell me what this is about?" Her voice broke the silence like a gunshot, startling her. Her words echoed, bouncing around the men and apparently siphoning off of them for all the attention they gave her. She thought about simply stopping, refusing to go another step until she got some answers. But she somehow thought that her escorts wouldn't be above carting her around like a sack of rocks.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking, CC#1 stopped in front a plain, frosted glass door. He opened it and ushered her through. There was a tiny room on the other side, with a couple of chairs and a reverse mirror. She was in some interrogation room, and she felt her panic level notch higher. What the hell could they want with her? She hadn't done anything wrong. She spent most of her time traipsing around jungles and deserts for goodness sake.

Her confusion was complete when they ushered her into the interrogation room itself. There was a long table with a pitcher of water and a few glasses situated in the middle. Another door leading who knew where was across from the one Layla had just come through. But neither of these things really registered. What had Layla riveted to the spot, with her russet brows pulled together over her eyes was the sight of the tiny, dark haired woman sitting at the table. She had a wad of tissue crumpled in one hand and her pretty face was streaked and swollen with tears.

When Layla walked in, the woman looked up, the misery etched in her face making the younger woman's heart break.

"Mrs. Peace?"

"Layla!" Relief flooded Warren's mother's features, erasing some of years. She stood, knocking the chair back with a loud scrape and advanced on Layla with a fervent gleam in her eye. "You tell them. You tell them that Warren's a good boy. You make them understand he would never join…join…They don't understand him. They never even tried because of Barron. Why make my boy pay for his father's mistakes?" Judith Peace, usually a woman so put together and calm was reaching for Layla like she was her savior.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Peace, I don't understand…"

"They think my boy ran off to join that monster." Judith spat, horror that the powers that be would think such a thing evident on her face. "He's a good boy." she insisted, fresh tears welling up and spilling over her cheeks.

"I know. I know he is." Layla assured, dropping her bag and clutching the older woman's hands. "It'll be ok. They'll figure that out."

"Miss Williams?" The other door had opened while Layla was consoling Judith and Layla looked up to see an older man wearing a military style uniform. He fit in wonderfully with CC #1 and #2, his gray hair cut short and his lips pressed thin. He had the look of a man that had forgotten how to smile. Forgotten how to feel anything good at all, even.

"Yes?"

"I'm General Robert Adams. I work closely with the Association of Supers to help maintain the balance between citizen and super populations. I thank you for coming here today."

"I had a choice? Because if that's the case, I have a flight to catch." At her words, Judith clutched Layla's hands tighter and a glazed look of panic filled her eyes.

"No, you can't go. You have to tell them…"

What exactly she was supposed to convince the military and Association of Supers was beyond Layla. Just telling them Warren was a good person wasn't enough. Especially if he'd done something to make them think otherwise.

"Miss Williams, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. But we could really use your help. Your friend, Warren Peace, has…for lack of a better term, disappeared. Now, since this came on the heels of his father escaping from prison, that leads to some obvious suspicion. We know he's been visiting Barron Battle in prison for years. And it's not too short of a jump to think that he decided to join his father."

"Lies! He never visited him. Warren would have told me." Judith spat. Layla tensed and bit her lip hard.

"He did, visit him, Ms. Peace." She said quietly, turning her dark eyes to the older woman.

"What?" She looked shell shocked that Warren would have kept this from her, and if he'd been in front of Layla in that second, she might have wrapped him up in poison ivy. Naked.

"He started his senior year in high school. He said…He said it was to remind himself where he came from, what he never wanted to become."

Judith sank into the nearest chair as she tried to process this information, leaving Layla to stand in front of the General alone. She was kind of curious why there was no one there to represent the Association of Supers.

"You knew of these visits?"

"Yes. I was the only one he told. He didn't think Will would understand." This was said almost to herself, her mind drifting back to a time when friendship held them all together. How long ago that seemed now. "What is this about?" She shook off her melancholy and leveled her gaze directly on the General. The man studied her with steely blue eyes, his expression belying nothing. Then, as he opened his mouth to speak, the door behind Layla reopened-when had the crew cut crew left?- causing all eyes to turn there.

"Sorry I'm late." Layla's heart stuttered to a stop and her skin went from very cold to very hot in a second. The man standing in the door looked nothing and everything like the boy she'd once loved.

"Will," she gasped, her breath coming out with a whoosh on his name.

Will Stronghold stood there in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, his dark blond hair short now, his blue eyes still soft. When he looked at her, his mouth melted into a smile and she had the feeling if they didn't' have an audience, he would have hugged her. It was probably a good thing he didn't, because she wasn't sure her heart would have been able to take another surprise.

"Hello, Layla. So are you ready to go find or boy for us?"


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Three**

"You look good, Layla." The sun beat down on the pair of former lovers as they made their way out to the tiny park that was situated in the square across from the courthouse.

"What is this about, Will?" Layla turned to face him, her arms crossing her chest protectively. After he'd come into the room, he'd swept her out of there, much to the dismay of General whatever his name was. While she appreciated being out of that prison like room and away from the severe face of the General, (and much to her shame, away from Warren's mother) she was nervous being around Will.

Will Stronghold faced her, his handsome face smiling almost indulgently at her. She bristled a bit at that. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, his blue eyes taking her in.

"It's about Warren. Or," he amended with a slight jerk of his head, "about finding him."

"What makes you think I know where he is?" This was ridiculous. Will of all people should know she'd have no clue. She knew damn well they'd remained friends. Best friends. Warren had even stood up at Will's wedding a few years ago. Magenta had done a damn fine job on keeping her informed. Usually in small snippets dropped over green tea and coca cola.

"I know where he is." Layla's brows came together in confusion.

"Ok. Then what's this about?" She asked again.

"Look, you know Battle escaped." She didn't' tell him she'd just found out less then an hour ago. She just nodded. "After Warren found out…he just went silent. Took off from a job he was doing in Malaysia, and disappeared." He paused here, running an agitated hand through his hair. The action made the light tresses stick out oddly from his head, reminding her of the boy he'd used to be. She found herself smiling. "He stopped answering his cell, his intercom. Apparently he's even ditched his tracker."

Layla grimaced at that. The tracker was implanted in Heroes once they took the oath. It was placed under the skin, usually in a place that wouldn't' be easy for the hero to remove. It was implanted for many reasons, mainly for the Agency to keep tabs on their heroes while on missions. It was safer for the heroes to be monitored this way, since it didn't involve sound. It was also used to keep track of rogue heroes, who may or may not be turning to the other side.

Much like it seemed Warren was doing.

"Do you think he's joining his father?" Layla asked quietly. She almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Absolutely not." Will answered with such conviction, Layla let go of the breath she'd been holding. "I think he's going after Battle. And I think he'll do it by any means necessary. And I also think he's not planning on bringing his father back alive."

"Oh, Will. I'm not sure Warren would be able to do that." At least she really hoped not. The idea of Warren killing anyone, especially his father made her sick. Even though she understood he probably already had. Will smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes this time and she understood why. "If you know where he is, why don't you go after him?"

"Because…I'd join him." That simple statement sent chills over Layla's skin. "And that's why Warren won't contact me." Will had a wife, a family. And Warren wouldn't want him to throw that away.

Layla nodded, looking away to watch the children play on the swings.

"What the hell do you expect me to do? I'm not in this," she waved her hand in Will's direction, "anymore. I left. Remember?"

She regretted it as soon as she said it. The years melted away then and she suddenly found herself faced with the boy whose heart she'd broken.

"Yeah. I remember."

"I'm sorry, Will. I didn't…"

"Leave it. That's the past." He turned away from her then, seeking the calm he'd had. Layla stared at his back for long second, steeled herself, and then tried again.

"What I meant, I never believed in this system. How am I going to get Warren to come back? I think you have overestimated my influence on him. Especially after all these years."

"I think you've underestimated it." Will turned back to her now, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a folded envelope out. He unfolded it, letting her see her name written in the sharp, slanted writing she recognized as Warren's. Her narrowed eyes rose to meet Will's.

"What's that?"

"We found this when we searched his mothers apartment." He held it out to her. She reached out for it with shaking fingers, taking it and glancing back at Will.

"You read it." It wasn't a question. Of course they had. The Enforcers had probably opened every piece of mail, email or package Warren had received over the last several months. And this, a letter left behind could provide information about what he was going to do.

"I'm sorry." Was all Will said. Layla nodded and turned. She took a few steps away to give herself a little privacy. Carefully, she pulled out the slip of paper inside, taking a deep breath before opening it.

Just one thing was scrawled across the almost pristine white paper.

_I've always loved you._

Layla took a deep, hitching breath. The tears sprang up unbidden and uncontrollable. Her knees caved but instead of the ground, she felt two strong arms wrap around her and gather her against an unyielding chest. She cried, in hard, ragged sobs, gripping Will's shirt in an attempt to keep herself together. The grass around them started to turn brown and the large oak tree branches they'd stopped under was starting to droop.

She vaguely felt herself move, her arms wrapping instinctively around Will as he lifted her up. She was too deep in her misery to know that he'd walked them away from the scared children, who were pointing to the now dead oak tree. In fact, the only though that penetrated her agony was the knowledge that Warren wrote that confession, knowing he wasn't planning on coming back.

* * *

Layla sat on the back porch, staring out at the backyard she'd spent almost as much time in as her own. He'd held her until she'd stopped crying, never saying a word after she was spent. He simply placed her gently on the porch swing, tucked a stray strand of bright red hair behind her ear and gave her a sad, knowing smile. Then he'd walked away, giving her time to herself to think.

So, here she sat, with no real concept of time. She held the letter, which had been crumpled in her fist when she'd broken down. It was now spread across her lap, the wrinkles doing nothing to lessen the impact of the words on the paper. Tears leaked from her eyes, sliding down her face to drop unnoticed on her lap.

He loved her.

Something about that statement was both so wrong and achingly right at the same time. Something inside of her wanted to scream and rant, to find him and beat the hell out of him for waiting until he'd gone on a suicide mission to tell her. How was she supposed to process this? He'd obviously not wanted her to read it until he was gone, literally, horribly gone. What good would those words do her then? Did he mean them to offer her comfort? Was he that much of an idiot?

Or was it a way to torture her? To make her realize what she'd missed when she'd left, leaving him and everything else she'd loved behind. Only once it was too late to do anything about it. Was he that cruel?

"Damn you, Warren Peace." She whispered, pressing a chilled hand to her lips to suppress the trembling.

"Hello, Layla."

God, would this day never end?

"Hello, Mrs. Stronghold." Layla managed passed the lump in her throat. _Aren’t you supposed to be in Boca?_ She didn't look up as the other woman moved out to the porch and settled herself onto a chair in front of the swing. They sat in silence for a long moment, both looking out into the backyard as dusk settled over them.

"Are you all right?"

Layla pressed her lips together, trying to fight the fresh wave of emotion flooding over her. After so long of separating herself, not allowing herself to remember what it was like to have people concerned about her. Even her family, whom she loved and missed, couldn't really reach her anymore. And now, with his confession, it was like everything she'd been denying herself was pouring over her like shards of glass in her skin.

"Just fine, Mrs. Stronghold." Sarcasm was something she was never really good at. But she found it easy this time. She couldn't even be bothered with the shame she knew she should have felt. After all, this woman had every right to hate her, yet here she was, inquiring about Layla's well being.

"I'm not judging you, Layla. I would have rather you had said no to Will when he'd asked you to marry him. But at least you rectified that mistake before the pair of you got married. That would have been a disaster." Layla didn't look at her, she couldn't. Fresh pain bloomed in her chest and she sank further down into the swing. She didn't move when Mrs. Stronghold, Jetstream, reached over and pulled the note off of her lap. "You need to go find him, Layla. He's as lost as you are, searching to right a wrong he had nothing to do with. He seems to want to atone for being Baron Battle's son. And that's not his fault; any more than you not loving Will anymore was yours."

Having said her peace, Mrs. Stronghold got up, placing the note gently back on Layla's lap. Then, she ran and a soft hand down the younger woman's arm, before patting Layla's hand affectionately. Layla wondered if she'd ever stop crying as the other woman moved back inside.

* * *

"What do I have to do?" Layla stood in the doorway of Will's old bedroom, which now served as another office. His apparently, as Will was sitting behind the desk, looking over some papers in a large manila envelope when she came in. He waved her fully inside, all business now as she settled into the other chair in the room.

"Basically meet up with him at the place he's holed up in, convince him he's being an idiot and get him to come home."

"Oh, is that all?" This sarcasm thing was getting easier, she realized. Will flashed a rueful grin. He reached across the desk and handed her a picture. Her heart stuttered and tripped when she saw Warren, looking every inch the desperado in a black leather trench and hat pulled low over his eyes. She hated that hat, right then, for shielding his face from her view.

"He's in a little- a  _ridiculously_ little town in southern Mexico. It's called The City of Fallen Angels. I mean, this place is so deeply hidden it's not on any map." He tossed a map of Mexico at her as if to prove it. He pointed to the general area and indeed, it wasn't there. "A guide will meet you at the airport and take you inside the city. This is the type of place people go to get lost, Layla. It is dangerous and probably not the sort of place a young woman needs to be in."

"Then why send me?"

"A regular young woman. You do have powers and I know you use them, no matter that you don't work for the agency." He leveled a look at her that made her almost want to squirm in her seat. She technically wasn't supposed to use her powers, since she hadn't taken the oath or become a hero with special circumstances. That was basically a hero with a sick note. She could use her powers, but it was still monitored and sanctioned by the Agency. She hadn't wanted any part of that.

"Ok." Was all the answer she had. Will smirked, something he must have picked up from Warren, because it hadn't been a natural expression when he was younger. Now he looked like he'd been wearing one since birth.

"There is no support for you down there. And, if on the off chance you can't convince him to come home peacefully, the Enforcers will come get him by force. I can't stop that." He said this with a great deal of regret. Something dawned on Layla as she looked at him and she gave a mirthless chuckle.

"Me going down there wasn't the agency's idea, was it?"

"No." Will admitted, shuffling some papers, which Layla figured he was doing just to distract himself. "If the Enforcers come for him, and he resists,"  _and he will resist,_  they both thought. "He will go to prison."

Layla went cold at that thought and slowly nodded her head.

"I'll do what I can." She leaned forward and took the large envelope he was now holding out for her.

_"_ I know you will. Your passport and everything is in order, right?"

"Yes." Layla opened the envelope and pulled out a plane ticket and a reservation confirmation for a hotel in Mexico City.

"That's for when you get his thick headed ass to come back home." Layla snorted at that. "Good luck, Layla."

"How do I contact you?"

"You don't. If you don't check into that hotel five days after you touch down, the Enforcers will be deployed." His face was grim as he said this. Layla nodded, the weight of this…mission for lack of a better term, dragging her shoulders down.

"Goodbye, Will."

"Goodbye, Layla."

For the second time in his life, Will watched Layla walk away from him.

* * *

 

_"Por favor Senorita. Ven conmigo."_

Layla Williams jerked at the sound of the voice suddenly so close to her ear. She was in an overcrowded airport, their voices raised in excitement and agitation. Many voices over lapping one another, so that this one singled out for her, startled her.

" _Lo siento_. I'm sorry. I did not mean to frighten you." The man at Layla's side was shorter than her, with skin as brown and tough as leather. Wrinkles carved from a lifetime of working outside cut deep into his face. Dark brows peppered with gray settled over a pair of deep brown eyes. He smiled at her in a way that she assumed was supposed to be reassuring, but her edginess barely allowed her to nod her head in comprehension.

"Are you…are you Juan?"

" _Si_ ,  _si_. I am here to take you to  _Ciudad los Angeles Caidos_."  _The City of Fallen Angels._  It even sounded frightening in Spanish.

The flight hadn't taken nearly as long as she would have liked. And with each passing minute, her nerves had pretty much turned her stomach into a churning mass of anxiety. This wasn't going to work. Warren Peace did absolutely nothing more or less than what he wanted to do. No one had ever been able to convince him of anything since they were kids. Even his declaration of love for her wouldn't change that. If anything, since he'd written it with no intention of telling her to her face, it would make him more determined.

What the hell was she doing here?

" _Senorita_?"

"I'm coming." Layla hefted her bag and followed the little man through the throngs of people outside. The crowds were even worse out here and she had to hurry mumbling 'I'm sorry' along the way. She skidded to a stop when she saw Juan standing next to a decrepit old truck. "How long will it take to get there?" She had a time limit after all.

"Nightfall." He said, sliding inside. Layla looked at the little truck dubiously, and wondered how that thing was going to get them out of the airport in one peace, much less all the way to the southern part of the country.

Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to settle her churning stomach, Layla threw her bag inside the cab. She then climbed in after it and settled herself down.

"Hold on." Came the heavily accented warning. She barely had time to register the words, before the little truck shuddered once, then gave a great roar as the engine came to life. She looked over at him, her fingers scrambling for a seat belt or something to hold her down as she felt the little truck  _lift off the ground!_

He grinned crazily, his dark eyes glazing a strange bluish white as his power took over the truck. A quick glance around before they zoomed into the air told Layla that he must have cloaked them, because other than a couple of glances, no one seemed to notice.

Layla grabbed the edge of the seat and held on, praying that the man didn't get distracted and send them plummeting to the ground below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I post using Spanish. If it is wrong, blame Google. So, from here on out since I failed spanish horribly in school, I will post in italics where they are supposed to be speaking spanish. I want to avoid confusion and any mistranslations. thank you.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder, italic speech is to indicate the character’s speaking Spanish. I failed it in high school and I don’t really trust those online translator’s.

The bar was little, dirty and hot.  The thick air was being pushed around by fans that did nothing to alleviate the heat or the staleness.  The man in the corner didn’t notice either.  He was settled in the same dark corner he‘d been in since he’d arrived in this God forsaken jungle.   The locals had given him a wide berth, allowing him to take up the seat but neither approaching nor threatening him in anyway.  It was almost like they knew he was waiting.   And for a man that barely knew how to be patient, he had been testing his limits.

 

Smoke curled around his head as he exhaled his cigarette.  His dark hair, streaked in several places with red, hung past his shoulders.  The heat didn’t bother him, it was the sticky humidity that had him pull the dark mass back in a tail.  His black eyes were heavy lidded and sharp, surveying the bar as he waited for the sign that he was trusted.  He’d been waiting here for three fucking weeks. 

 

The sharp plains of his face were hidden in the shadow.  Flame tattoos crawled up his wrists, faded with age on his tan skin.  When he smiled it could light up a room and send women’s hearts fluttering madly.  But that smile never came easy and it certainly wouldn’t put in an appearance in this God forsaken place.

 

The door of the bar opened, barely drawing the attention of any of the other patrons.  His eyes immediately found and dismissed the tiny figure that came in.  Until he realized that that figure wasn’t the man he first thought.  The flash of red hair had his stomach plummeting even though he showed no outward sign of recognizing her.

 

She wore a large parka over her lithe frame, her vibrant hair tucked under a hat save for the random strand that had caught his attention.  Hiking boots, well -worn khaki’s and a ratty knapsack completed her outfit.  When she lifted her head to look around the bar it took everything in him not to flinch back.  He knew he was well concealed, but she was here, so there was no way he was going to be able to avoid her.  She was nothing if not tenacious and she would ask every person in the bar if she’d seen him.  There was no way to sneak past her and once he stood up, he had no doubt she’d zero in on him.

 

 _Dammit, Will._   He had no doubt his friend sent her after him.  He also knew Will’s reasoning for it.  If anyone could get him to come back, Layla would be that person.

 

Too bad he’d have to disappoint them both this time.

 

‘ _Excuse me sir, have you seen this man?”_   He heard her ask the bartender in fluent Spanish.  She pulled out a photo and held it out to the man that didn’t even look up from the glass he was spit cleaning.  “ _Por favor,_ _please, it’s very important that I find him.”_

Despite himself, he smiled at the sight of her.  He took his time letting his eyes draw over her familiar form.  His mind filled in the blanks of what the parka hid from view.   His memory was very good when it came to her.  He could imagine the silky pale skin under the bulky garment, which he only knew of since he’d seen her in a bikini more than once.  He’d blessed the day she got that job as a lifeguard at the Maxville swimming pool.  Her hair was a luxurious red, usually swept up off her neck but he knew it was long and silky.  At least he hoped it still was.  He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d imagined those tresses laid out across his pillow, or wrapped around his fist as he kissed her.

 

He’d spent an amazing amount of time fantasizing about how those full, white breasts of hers would fit in his palms or taste in his mouth.   Through the latter half of high school and the entirety of college he’d spent way too much time imagining his best friends girlfriend (and his best _girl_ friend) naked and screaming his name.

 

 

Guilt had been a permanent thing in his life back then.  Until the day she broke up with Will and walked away.  Anger had taken its place, followed by a grudging acceptance at why she had to leave.  Followed closely by grief that they’d never have their chance.   In all the time she’d been away, she hadn’t once tried to get in touch with him.  It hurt, more than he’d wanted to admit.  He wondered if maybe he’d been the only one to feel the connection between them.

 

He felt that grief start to surface again the longer he looked at her, because even though she was here, her silky voice drifting over him like a balm, he had to send her away.  This was his fight and he’d be damned if anyone he loved would get caught in the crossfire.  Especially her.

 

 _“Please, can you help?”_   Layla had moved on from the bartender, realizing quickly that he wouldn’t help her. She was now speaking to the man at the end of the bar, who at least glanced at the picture before burying his head back in his drink with a sharp shake of his head.  Sighing, Warren crushed out his cigarette and stood, the scrape of his chair drawing her attention immediately.  She opened her mouth to speak, actually took a step towards him.  She backed up instead when he pinned her with a scalding look.

 

“ _You shouldn’t have come here.”_ He told her in Spanish.  If he’d spoken to her in English, even though the bartender understood it, it could make it seem like he was trying to hide something.  And he’d spent three weeks in this shit hole waiting as it was.  He hoped she hadn’t just undone all that by just showing up.

 

“ _I had too.”_ She replied, taking her cue from him and continuing in Spanish. 

 

_“I told you we were through.  Why the fuck can’t you get that through your head, Tricia?”_

 

If she was surprised at what he said she didn’t show it.  He was almost proud of the smirk that curled her lip and the way she cocked her hip out.  She raised her chin in challenge and sucked her teeth at him before she started to speak, all impressions of the woman she was when she came in gone.

 

“ _Please, you think you’re little tricks can fool me, taking out your tracker, going silent?  I’m not the Agency, War.  I have no morals when it comes to finding you.”_

_“Crazy bitch.”_ Warren stalked over to her and grabbed her arm.  Layla’s smirk widened and she arched one of her russet brows at him.  Her head fell back, bringing her lighter brown eyes to his.  He read everything she was thinking there, the worry, the relief.  There was something else there, something softer and more troubling than either of the first too.  He ignored it for now and yanked her behind him as he moved to leave the bar.  “ _Some women don’t know when to leave well enough alone, eh?”_

This earned him a few muted chuckles.  He could only hope, but he didn’t have much of it, that their little performance had repaired some of the damage her appearance had caused.

 

“ _Fuck you.  I told you we’d always be together.”_ Damn if she didn’t inflect just the right amount of crazy in that statement.  Much better than when they’d mock dated to make Will jealous her freshman year. Of course, he hadn’t exactly given her much to work with then.  He dragged her out of the bar and around the side of the building.  He felt her start to drag her feet but he didn’t let her slow them down.  He wasn’t about to have the following conversation with her out in the open where they could be overheard.

 

“Just wait.”  He growled at her.  He was going to kill Will.  For dragging Layla into this, for interfering.  He wasn’t sure which yet, but the Flyboy was definitely on his shit list.  She started to move more quickly then, following him when he took her up a flight of stairs. 

 

He pushed her into the third door he came to and flicked on the overhead light.  The room was small, a bed taking up most of the entirety of it.  Once more a useless fan twirled overhead moving the thick air around.  Next to the door there was a small, cane chair and an even smaller, ancient refrigerator.   There was a lone window that was open wide to coax even the slightest breeze inside.  The walls were white, mostly and the floors were wooden planks.  Colorful though threadbare rugs were strewn here and there.  There was a pitcher and bowl on a stand by the window and another door that led to a broom closet sized bathrrom.  Mosquito netting hung limply around the bed.

 

“Well, this is cozy.”  Layla said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the tiny space.

 

“Take off your parka, you’ll be melting soon.”

 

“That’s Ethan, remember?”  she pulled her hat off and tossed it on the chair then followed it with the parka.  Under the parka was a pale green tank top and a darker green overshirt that was damp with sweat.  Her hair fell in a braid that she’d tucked under her hat.  The tip of it brushed the top of her waistband.  Her skin was flushed pink from the heat. 

 

He’d never wanted her more than he did in that moment.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Layla?”  his voice was gruff to try to disguise the way she made him feel.

 

“I came to take you home, Warren.” 

 

“I can’t go home.”

 

“They think  you’ve gone rogue.  Or that you’re joining your father.  Which is it?”  Layla looked up at him, her face questioning but not accusing.    Warren sighed and shook his head.

 

“It doesn’t matter, does it?  Either way I broke the law.  How the hell did they get you involved?  Last I heard you were in Brazil.”

 

“Not that far away from here now is it?”

 

“Layla.”  Warren gave her a warning glare.   She merely arched a brow and returned his look.  “How did Will talk you into this?”

 

“He didn’t.”  She reached into her pocket and took out an envelope.  One he knew all too well.  Cursing inwardly he shoved a hand through his hair and turned away from her.  “I came for you.”

 

“You weren’t supposed to see that, Layla.”

 

“Why not?  It has my name on it.”  He heard the hurt in her voice and he steeled himself against it.

 

“I wrote that after you left.  I thought…” he didn’t know what he’d thought.  At the time he’d been so torn up that she was gone, that she’d left Will and himself in tatters and hadn’t even realized it.  He’d wanted to write her a letter, to explain what he’d only really begun to understand himself.  He loved her, probably since the beginning.  He’d written that instead and like a fool, didn’t throw it away.  He knew the only way she would have gotten her hands on that would have been because the Agency went through his mother’s house.

 

So Will knew too.  Wonderful.

 

“I was a kid when I wrote that.”  He made sure his face was impassive when he turned back around.  He let anger slip into his tone and he crossed his arms across his chest, mimicking her pose. 

 

“Then why did you keep it?”

 

“I must have forgot it was there.  Is that why you came?  Because I said I _love_ you?  Will loved you too and you walked away from him.”  She reared back as if he slapped her.  He schooled himself against it.  Better she hate him now.  Then she would leave and he could get on with killing Barron Battle.

 

“That’s not fair.  You know why I had to leave Will.”

 

“No, actually.  I don’t.  I know what you told Will, Magenta.  But not me.  You didn’t once come to me and talk to me about it.  I heard about every single detail of yours and Will’s relationship since the very beginning.  Then you left, walked out of my life without a word and now you’re here to save me.  A little late Hippy.”  The anger was real and he was unable to stop the hurt that bubbled to the surface.  Heat flared in his hand, flames licking up his wrist as his temper got the better of him.  Neither flinched.  They both knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

 

“I’m sorry Warren.  I just thought…I thought you’d hate me because of what I did to Will.  And I couldn’t handle that.”  Layla cried, her wide dark eyes liquid with tears that she refused to shed.  Warren sucked in a deep breath and powered down.  He stared at her a long time, the desire to tell her the truth and the need for her to get the hell out of Mexico warring with each other. 

 

“Go home, Layla.  Or wherever it is you’ve been hiding the last ten years.  I’ve got this.”  He pulled out his cigarettes and left her in the room.  Once outside he took another shuddering breath and fought back the urge to incinerate something and instead lit a cigarette.  He greedily breathed in the nicotine and stared out at the jungle beyond.  Somewhere out there was his father.  Hopefully soon he’d be accepted into the fold so he could get close to Barron and finally take him out.

 

He didn’t expect it to be easy.  And he really didn’t expect to live through it.  Having her here was doing things to him, to his desire to complete this suicide mission.  After all, if the only reason she came was because she believed in a letter written by a love-struck twenty year old (who was he kidding, he was still love struck) then maybe she felt something for him too. 

 

Why now?  Would she have ever tried to see him again if Barron hadn’t escaped?  Maybe he should just go ask her.  But he was afraid of what her answers would be.

 

In record time he burned through his cigarette and he was no closer to dealing with his emotions than he was when he walked outside.  For so long he’d suppressed them, never wanting to deal with it all.  From his father’s abandonment, his imprisonment, his mother’s breakdown, his hatred for the Commander.  His anger had always been so much easier to deal with.

 

Then he ‘d met that little slip of a red-head in his sophomore year and that was the end of Warren Peace the son of Barron Battle, super villain  and the birth of Warren Peace- Hero.

 

“Fuck.”  Warren flicked the smoldering butt away and shoved both hands through his hair, tugging lightly on his scalp.  He heaved one last great sigh, then turned to go back into the room.  The first thought when he saw her sitting on the end of his bed, her face a mask of misery, that damn note crumpled in her hand was how much he wanted to kiss her. 

 

That just cemented that she had to get out of here, she was too damn much of a distraction.

 

“Layla,”

 

“The Enforcers are coming, Warren.  In five days, if we haven’t checked into the hotel in Mexico City, they are going to come.  Will sent me in a last ditch effort to get you come home, because he wants you to come on your own.  Please, please.  Don’t do this.  Its suicide.  Let the Agency deal with Barron.  His crimes aren’t your responsibility to avenge.”  She looked up at him with those liquid eyes, her voice soft but each word like a stab to his heart.  “And even if you don’t love me anymore, I love you.  And I think we both know that’s why I left.”

 

One tear dripped down her pale cheek, her confession hanging in the thick air around them.

 

 

 

 


End file.
